Inspector Hrithan’s title wasn’t just for show; his eyes and ears caught every threat well before we walked into it, altering our course to avoid the bandits, or firing an arrow here and there to make quick work of anyone trying to harm me.
Just when we reached familiar tents, he paused in his track and held out a hand in front of me.
“Is something wrong?”
“I think your shop is being robbed right now,” he said.
My eyes spread wide. “What? Inspector, you have to help me. Nazrik’s merchandise is priceless.”
“Naturally,” Hrithan said, nocking another arrow. “Can you hide if things go awry?”
“I can, but I’d rather help you out.”
“As you wish.”
I peeked around the corner, just to take a look at my robbers. Two bandits were standing in front of the tent, without horses this time, snarling at a third, familiar face. Hain still held his arms in that weird fist-fighter’s defense position because of the magic strings, but that didn’t stop him from looking smugly at the bandits, taking their audible berating head-on. If I didn’t know better, I would have said he was defending the shop.
“Oh, for storm’s sake…” I mumbled under my breath, grabbing Hrithan’s ankle. “Inspector, wait a moment.”
“What is it?”
“We should… see where’s this going.”
Hrithan wasn’t quite convinced, but considering how it was my home, he lowered the bow and only observed the scene. The bandits were in a heated argument with Hain, who just shook his head.
“No.”
“But we saw it!”
“You’ve seen it wrong. There’s no kid here, especially not the one you’re looking for. Now go, loot someone else.”
One bandit, a familiar man from the market, leaned the blunt side of his sword against his shoulder and stood really close to Hain. “Listen, this thing can go two ways. Either you step aside, and we’ll get what we came for, or we cut a matching scar on your pretty face.”
Hain’s lips pulled into a menacing smile. “Please, be my guest.”
“Don’t be stupid,” the third said. “You have no armor, no weapons. You’re unarmed. What’s the bravado for?”
The previous bandit got tired of the interlude, slashing his saber in an arc towards Hain’s neck. Hain took a step forward, almost barging into his opponent, raising his crossed arms above his head like a fork. He propped his forearms against the bandit’s wrist, stopping his strike mid-air, then simply kicked his knee into his crotch.
The sword fell out of the bandit’s hand, snatched immediately by Hain to parry a cut from the other one. It was almost theatrical, like a dance. I even smiled for a moment, followed by a sulky huff when I realized it.
“A Viper is never unarmed, rats.”
The two bandits shuddered for a moment, exchanging concerned looks.
“Devari, the Vipers—”
“Shut up!” the other said. “We’ll tell the chief.”
Hain never broke eye contact, grinning victoriously at both of them until they got in their saddles and rode off.
Inspector Hrithan chose this moment to emerge and aim the arrow at Hain. “Who are you?”
“That’s Hain, the younger and more irritating Chief of a mercenary guild,” I said before he could open his mouth. Whenever he had done that before it had turned into a disaster, so it was better to avoid it. “Salar, are you there?”
The answer was a sarcastic ‘no’ from inside the tent. Salar was learning quite fast.
“What does a mercenary want here?” Hrithan asked.
“The usual. Working.”
My eyes met Hain’s icy gaze for a moment. It was a simple way to mask his responsibility for this whole charade, but for the sake of his uncharacteristic good deed just now, I kept silent. The truth would have brought with it a lot of questions, too, more than I had time for now.
“I am grateful for your help earlier, inspector,” I said, taking my eyes off Hain. “I may offer you a cup of tea, although I’d understand if you’d prefer a beer for the new acquaintances.”
“I think the inspector has some work to do,” Hain said, straightening up, even raising his chin a bit to match Hrithan’s height. “You know, bandits and the like.”
The inspector took a last stern glance at him before bowing towards me. “Sadly, he’s right. Some other time, miss. Until then, the mercenary should honor his duty, so Nazrik wouldn’t pay for naught.”
He completely misunderstood the situation, but it was the easiest explanation, though I wouldn’t hire this asshole for a silver.
“Get lost,” I said when we were among us. “Before I change my mind.”
“What if you do?”
“Then I may ask the inspector to shoot you as he intended.”
“That’s an ill omen.”
“What?”
“The inspector. They always bring trouble when you and I are mixed up with them.”
“Nothing would bring trouble if you stopped stirring shit.”
“Oh, that wouldn’t be me. Maybe it isn’t even up to me.”
Of course not. I couldn’t remember a straight-up lie Hain told me before this. Half-truths and deliberate misleading were all he spoke, but this was the first true lie.
I stepped towards the tent, stopping just before the curtains could fall back in place behind me, looking back above my shoulder. “We both know it’s up to you. Always is. Even Ezair said so.”
I was waiting for something. A cynical comeback, a retort, but Hain was silent, stomping away after a few seconds of numb staring. I had finally hit a nerve even he felt.
Inside the shop, Salar was sitting in the back with the Viper’s blade across his lap, ready to plunge it into anyone entering, before he recognized me, setting the weapon aside. “Good. That just leaves Nazrik,” he said.
“He can take care of himself, don’t worry. But you should learn to wield that,” I said. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”
His eyes turned towards the streets and the noise of the raid. “This is because of me, isn’t it?”
“Don’t think like that,” I said, sitting down next to him. “It’s their fault. Nobody is forcing them to hunt you, it’s their own decision.”
“How can you be this wise?” Salar looked up at me, for the first time without the perpetual sulk. He was barely a child, both in body and mind, who didn’t understand anything about how these things worked. Like I was before I met Ezair.
“I had a good teacher.”
The bandits tore through An Ramash and left after just an hour, making camp in the desert. They were quite a large gang, posing too great a challenge for the caravan guards here, in the middle of nowhere, so the light of their tents loomed on the horizon like a threatening mirage. The next few days were filled with debate as to whether or not we should have moved on, sent for help, or attacked them, but none of those were better than the other.
They didn’t show themselves after the first raid, for a reason nobody but we knew. They were blackmailing us, just as Hain planned. They couldn’t get their hands on Salar before, so they remained, lying in wait until we broke and gave him away.
Not that it would ever happen.
It was afternoon when Nazrik entered the shop, sitting down and staring at me while I was busy polishing the lanterns. He didn’t say anything, just kept looking concerned until I couldn’t bear it anymore.
“That’s unusual for you. Just say it,” I said.
“I’ve learned something about these bandits,” he said, really carefully, which was even more uncharacteristic. “Especially about their leader, a man named Sakrajit Sayad. They call themselves the Beheaded.”
“That’s nothing special. Brigands love flashy names they think are impressive.”
“That’s not all. If my sources are correct, they have a sigil they tattoo on themselves, and leave around as they pillage villages and caravans.”
Nazrik took the lid from a small jar, pouring some colored mineral dust over the table, then started drawing lines into it with his nails. The sign resembled the letter Y, although every line was more coiling and arched.
“Look familiar?”
“It does. But what’s it to us?”
Nazrik completed the drawing with two spearhead shapes atop the forked end, creating the simplified symbol of a two-headed snake.
“Sakrajit was one of the three Viper Chiefs. He was a cruel, spineless, and detestable man even by mercenary standards, so they eventually excommunicated him, taking back his title and granting it to a new Chief. Can you guess who was the lucky winner?”
“You don’t have to say it aloud,” I said. “But still, what’s it to us? If they kill each other, all our problems will vanish.”
“Only if Hain knows Sakrajit is here. Which I’m not entirely sure about.”
“Then go tell him, if you’re this enthusiastic about getting involved in their business.”
“That could take a while. He’s been avoiding me since he was here.”
“He can’t hide in An Ramash forever,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s your city. He’s bound to walk by a fire eventually.”
“Eventually. I just hope it’s before the Beheaded return for the boy.”
I knew what he was hinting at, but even the thought sent an uneasy tingling through my chest. “I won’t tell him in your stead.”
“Zaira, stop making this harder than it has to be. I know perfectly why you detest even seeing his face. But I also know why you must.”
“And why exactly?”
I could think of no reason other than Nazrik’s sick game to confront my past and clean the wound or something. He had been preaching about it for years now, but there must have been some other way to do it.
“Send Salar. He owes Hain more than I do.”
“To meet that lunatic?” Salar said from the shadow of the tent. “No way.”
“Sakrajit is a thousand times worse than Hain. He doesn’t care for collateral damage or honor, and he threatens the entire city along with you and Salar. I’m not asking you to settle anything, just talk to him. He can’t ignore you.”
“Why? Basically, anyone could provoke him. What if it backfires and he won’t do anything for the sole reason I’m asking?”
“You’re a memento of the only thing he regrets. Even the famous Silver Viper can’t remain unmoved, facing his past.”
I would have gladly remained his past, but it seemed that wasn’t an option anymore.
“You’re a wicked demon.”
“Naturally. I’m a convicted criminal.”
We locked eyes for a minute, but no matter how I stared, Nazrik remained unwavering. “Fine. Where’s he now?”
“If I’d known that, you wouldn’t have to do this.”
“Then I’ll look around. He’s quite easy to spot. But before you think I’m doing this out of charity, you’ll do every bit of housework for two days,” I said, leaving the shop immediately before he could respond.
Outside, it was a mellow evening. The frying heat had subsided, leaving behind a pleasant warmth which most people used to the fullest. Some tents just rolled up their covers, filling the street with the scent of freshly roasted meat and grilled vegetables, ready to serve the hungry Ramashi their dinner.
People flocked to the squares, picking at the food on offer, so I did the same. During these years, I had learned to navigate through the army of merchants without getting swayed, walking past them like I had a goal. Well, technically, I did have a goal, but he refused to show his blond locks anywhere.
I reached the central lake, the reason we set up camp here in the first place. An Ramash never stopped for longer than a single night anywhere without water, but oases like this attracted enough travelers to settle for weeks. This lake was smaller than most, barely a puddle lit alight by the setting sun. Under one of the few palm trees, there was a single figure kneeling by the water. Judging from his hair, it might have been Hain, but he was facing away from me, so I couldn’t be sure.
Although approaching him was the easiest way of doing this, I stopped at a distance and looked at him with arms folded. He was splashing water on his head, sometimes reaching for a bottle in the sand nearby, repeating it two or three times before squeezing his locks and standing up. His uncovered back was a mess of scars, ruining the honed muscles and tanned skin, but watching the drops of water trickle down his shoulders still sent blood into my cheeks.
When he turned around, his eyes immediately locked onto me. “What do you want?”
I was about to answer him, but I was washed away by an aroma of citrus emanating from his hair. It was a peculiar mix, faintly familiar, although I couldn’t put my finger on where from. A dream, maybe.
Not to make more of a fool of myself, I cleared my throat and put on a serious face. “Me? Nothing. It’s all Nazrik’s idea, so I’ll be brief. The bandits scourging Ramash are led by your predecessor at the Vipers, and they set up camp not far. I have a notion whose petty gossip brought them here.”
“My predecessor?” Hain’s eyes narrowed. “Jit?”
“Him.”
“So?”
“Well, since it’s your fault, and you’re old acquaintances, Nazrik hoped you’ll take care of it.”
“To untie my own trap?” Hain shook his head. “I held you smarter than that. Send the kid away, Jit will follow.”
“You’re risking that he’ll snatch Salar before you. He has a whole gang, you’re alone. That’s an unreasonable plan.”
“So I should just ask him to leave?”
“I couldn’t care less how you do it. Ask him, slaughter him, buy him off, whatever. Just make sure he won’t sack the city.”
“You’re right, that’s an infinitely more reasonable plan,” he said, picking up a shirt from a nearby barrel, trying to put it on with his hands still tied with Nazrik’s invisible magic lace. It took him a while to pull it around his neck, leaving his muscled abdomen exposed, and making this debate ten times harder.
“How about we release your hands in exchange?” I said, forcing myself to look at his face.
“Will you reattach my head as wellafter Sakrajit cuts it off?”
“You threw him out once, can’t be that hard to beat him again.”
Hain just rolled his eyes, heading towards a nearby tent. I couldn’t let him shake me off that easily, so I quickly followed, trying to ignore the citrus scent.
“I just offered the freedom of your hands. What else could you want? Besides Salar, because you’ll sooner die than have him.”
“Just how many plagues must this city endure before you realize that he’s dangerous? If I won’t get him, someone else will. From Kahlaran, or Shardiz, or whatever dark nook Jit crawled out from. You’re just prolonging the list of casualties while Salar is trying to run from his fate.”
“Don’t bullshit me. There’s no fate, apart from whatever we make for ourselves. Salar’s no more dangerous than I am, and even the two of us pale in comparison to Nazrik. And we were here for a long time without anyone becoming a casualty. If you didn’t chase him across half the world, everything would have been fine. If you didn’t spread the word about him, everything would have been fine too. Don’t you dare to blame him.”
“If they bother you this much, stop debating philosophy and do something. Just walk into their camp and set a sandstorm on them. It posed no issue in Kahlaran before I knocked you out.”
The riposte I was preparing got stuck in my throat. The pieces gathered to form a picture I couldn’t believe for a moment, but everything pointed in the same direction–it was him. The mysterious figure smelling like an orange grove, carrying me away from the execution and handing me over to Nazrik was Hain.
Why had he followed me? He had refused to help just before, on the market square, quite clearly and completely. If he had captured me, why hadn’t he brought me to the Court of Fire?
A million questions like that flared up in my mind, but I was standing still in utter silence for too long.
“That’s… That’s not that simple,” I said, trying to find my voice. “It happened because I saw someone dear to me die, not because I wanted it. And even if I could summon it at will, I would bury An Ramash along with the bandits.”
That was way too much honesty, considering he was still blackmailing me, but that sudden revelation confused me enough to keep rambling on.
“Well, there’s still the obvious solution,” he said. “Give Salar to me. I’ll leave, bringing anyone on his tail with me. Or choose him, but know the city will pay the toll.”
“I’m not betraying my brother,” I said, almost gritting my teeth. “Seriously, is helping me such a burden? Or are they paying extra for making my life miserable?”
“It’s not about money. And he’s not your brother, you know that too. He’s a marid. A water daemon.”
“Daemon? Didn’t you mean demon?”
“No. There’s a difference. But semantics aside, he shouldn’t be here.”
“I shouldn’t either. Why aren’t you hounding me? If money isn’t your drive, then what is?”
“That’s…” Hain stopped mid-sentence, furrowing his brows. “I have no idea. I don’t know what my drive is, or if I have one. But what I have is a job, and those I rarely leave unfinished. Are you satisfied? Because I just wasted an honest moment on you, and those are rare.”
“You keep telling me I’m asking the wrong questions. But you’re not asking any, which is worse.”
“What’s the point? The only one capable of answering is silent as dead.”
“I thought you could get anyone to speak.”
“Not myself,” Hain said with that cold, expressionless mask I had seen during our dance, although I had a hunch it was more honest than his constant half-smile.
“Although I’m the last person to give you life advice, I’ve already told Salar it is best to try everything until you find your calling. Since helping me is still on that list, how about we start there? You might find an answer, but if not, well… Salar’s not going anywhere, I assure you. You’ll just have less concurrence.”
I wasn’t trying to stir this conversation back to the topic, but it was a pleasant outcome. This way I could concentrate on that, not the fact that I was dying to know what played in Hain’s head.
He just rubbed his nose. “I hate debating with merchants.”
“Got you,” I said with a victorious grin, following him back to the lakeshore. I couldn’t figure out if he had something to do and just ignored me in the meantime, or he was actively trying to lose me, but I wasn’t making it easy for him.
On the small plaza surrounding the lake, we found another commotion surrounding a boy running blindly into the mass awaiting him, collapsing onto his crying mother’s shoulders.
“Nader…” the woman said, sobbing silently. “I thought they got you. Where were you?”
“We were in the desert, but Rasoul saw a dust devil and… I… We didn’t want to…”
The rest of the story got lost in his tears until a man looked around.
“So where’s Rasoul?”
There was no answer from the boy, just another wave of sobbing. Most faces turned sour on the square, standing in silence almost as a minute of grieving–but that was it. People couldn’t get stuck on everyone’s loss, they had their own problems in life, too much to care for a lost boy. In an hour, nobody would even remember Rasoul’s name.
“Where’s his father? Shouldn’t we tell him?” Hain said unexpectedly.
“He… He doesn’t have one,” a girl, about Salar’s age, said. “Rasoul is an orphan. All alone since his brother died.”
“Shame. Such a good kid,” a man said, taking the cloth from his head.
The gathering slowly broke apart, people walking away in every direction until it was only the child, his mother, and for some reason us two. Hain walked up to the boy and took a shiny moonsilver piece out of his pocket.
“Nader, right? Don’t be afraid, I just wanted to give you something. Can you tell me what happened to Rasoul?”
The boy glanced at his mother, but eventually took the coin. “We were playing swords and tag in the desert, getting further away from the city. Then the dust devil arrived and people emerged from inside… They grabbed Rasoul, and…”
The boy’s voice broke, so Hain took the opportunity to slip in a question.
“These men, have you recognized them? Did you see them during the attack on the city?”
Nader just nodded.
“Did they say something?”
“I… I think they said that they got him, that he looks like… someone. But I’m not sure.”
“I see. Keep your head up, Nader, you were brave,” he said with an almost kind smile. It was a curious sight; one I’ve never seen before. Ezair had mentioned that every street urchin in Kahlaran served as Hain’s informer, but it seemed there was something more between Hain and these orphans.
“What did you say, where did Sakrajit camp?” he asked when Nader left with his mother.
“That’s it? A kidnapped child and everything is reconsidered?”
“Don’t say it like that,” he said with a stern look. “He’s an orphan, with nobody to look after him or care about him. Now he was snatched because the halfwits working for Jit can’t tell apart two Seir kids. That’s not just it, Zaira.”
“Alright, okay,” I said, taking a step back. “I wasn’t trying to pick on your nerves this time. What do you want to do?”
“Make Jit regret choosing a name like ‘the Beheaded’. But for that…” he raised his hand, separating them enough for the magical cord to appear. “I’m going to need my payment in advance.”